


sweat for me

by radiodurans



Series: 500 Words of Harry Styles [11]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, M/M, Melancholy, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-17 03:15:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28967439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/radiodurans/pseuds/radiodurans
Summary: The funny thing about Harry is that he never ends up in Zayn’s bed in an honest way
Relationships: Zayn Malik/Harry Styles
Series: 500 Words of Harry Styles [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2064012
Comments: 4
Kudos: 29





	sweat for me

**Author's Note:**

> This was gonna be part of a longer thing but then I said “what if it wasn’t, and I just posted it like this instead?” Close readers will know that this innovative question is where almost all the 500 word stories in this series come from. Anyway, I hope you like it.

The funny thing about Harry is that he never ends up in Zayn’s bed in an honest way. No, Harry prefers to slink in at three in the morning, nude except for his boxers and socks, claiming insomnia or boredom or frustration or –

So anyway, they’re fucking. Same as always, Harry’s face buried in a pillow, tossing himself off. There was a time when they would have kissed, but it’s long past. Now, they just do their best to not make too much of a mess.

He’s a good fuck, even like this. His hair is long like a girl’s, so Zayn treats him like one, pulling it with a tight fist as he rides him hard. Harry used to be noisy in bed but he’s gotten quiet lately when there’s no pain involved. When he cries out, it makes the whole. . . _encounter_ feel more human.

Suddenly, Harry comes into his fist. Zayn keeps riding him as Harry gasps into his pillow.

“C’mon,” Harry rasps. “Come, Zayn.”

A headache is throbbing at the base of Zayn’s skull. He’s pounding, pounding, pounding because the peak of this is going to be lousy, he can tell, so might as well go hard while it lasts.

“ _Come_ , Zayn,” Harry urges. “Hurry up. It hurts.”

“Shut up,” says Zayn, though it’s not really what he means. _You don’t say enough things that I like anymore_ is too complex of a thought for his pre-nut mouth to utter. It doesn’t matter anyway, because seconds later he’s coming, just like Harry wanted.

(Just as he suspected, it’s not very good.)

After, Harry lingers in his room like a bad cold. He showers until there’s no hot water and steals a pair of Zayn’s trackies for warmth. Zayn feels feverish; he wonders if close contact with the constantly-sick Harry has made him ill. His phone buzzes as Harry turns off the light to the bathroom.

**Perrie:** _Hiiiii love. Miss you xx_

Harry wipes toothpaste off of his lip with his thumb.

“Sixth sense for cheating, that one,” he says.

Zayn glares at him, then texts Perrie back.

**Zayn:** _Miss you too xx_

“I _do_ miss her,” he says.

“Mhm,” says Harry as he leans against the bathroom door frame. “And you love her, and once you’re back home you’ll _always_ be faithful, and you’ll never sneak around with girls and _especially_ not with boys ever, ever again.”

“I don’t sneak around with boys. I sneak around with you,” says Zayn.

Harry sighs.

“Can I stay?” he says. Zayn nods and rests his phone on the bedside table again. He doesn’t look at Harry as he climbs in the bed. Instead, he stares at the window of their huge hotel. Below them, the street is littered with lamps, taxis, and neon signs. It’s a busy city of strangers; when they’re not performing, they aren’t anyone at all.

Harry dips his head under the covers and rests his hot cheek against Zayn’s thigh.

“I miss my mum,” he says.


End file.
